


A Grim Night

by moosesmittens



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Just some platonic fluffy times here, Minor Suicide Ideation, Stan O' War II, and a cute dog, the grim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 05:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6552700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moosesmittens/pseuds/moosesmittens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During Stanford's night shift on the Stan O War II an unexpected visitor arrives for Stanley</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Grim Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thesnadger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesnadger/gifts).



Waves gently lap against the hull of the Stan o War II, a sliver of moon hangs in the sky. It’s Stanford’s turn to direct the boat, while his twin brother gets some rest. He rubs the shadows under his eyes, almost glad for the chill in the air to keep him somewhat awake. The warm orange glow from the nearby oil lamp wanes strong through the night, staving off the need for sleep.

It gives him time to think. Time to fret.

Sometimes he felt that he and his brother were in sync. Not a telepathic link, of course, because the technology’s not quite there yet… Most people tend to chalk it up to simply being Twins. But now there was a block there. Stan’s laughs were suddenly strained, weak and thin like the diluted tomato soup he made him eat the other day. It sends a pang in Ford’s chest to think Stan was struggling with something alone. Stan is reckless when he’s alone… 

“Ah, don’t worry bout it, Sixer! I’m fine! Just my age catching up to me, I reckon!” Stan had laughed it off when Ford asked.

… But Ford knows when Stan’s lying. The conman thought he was pretty slick, but there was always the slight hastiness that gave him away.

Ford’s drifting off at the wheel, a heavy haze of drowsiness slowly overcoming him.   

Suddenly there’s a splash and Ford bolts awake. Something must have fallen overboard!

He springs to action, going over the supplies in his head that they couldn’t afford to lose, before swinging his torso against the side of the ship to look into the churning depths of the sea.  

A pair of pale, glowing eyes meet him and he recoils sharply, stumbling back. 

Something growls; there’s the sound of claws scrabbling against the boat before a hulking mass of wet black fur heaves itself aboard the deck.

  Ford’s heart sinks. 

The Grim.

The big black dog stills for a moment, great head tilted towards the sea breeze as it scents the air. It’s ears twitch and it slinks forward, thick fur dripping.  

“Y-You… You have no business here! Begone, foul beast!” Ford roars, his voice trembling.

It turns to look at him, tilting it’s head to the side and slightly wagging its tail. Then it leaps past him, phasing through the door into their quarters.

“No!” Ford cries out. “Stanley!” He scrambles to the door, flinging it up and bolting down the stairs.  

“Stanley!”

Ford bursts into their room, wide-eyed and panicked. 

“Heya, Sixer! Look who showed up!” Stan’s upright in his bed, beaming. He looks happier than he’s looked in days. The Grim is next to him, tail thumping on the floor as it wiggles with sheer excitement and leaps onto Stan’s bed.  

“Hah! I love this guy! Classic Smokey! Trying to get in the bed! C’mere you rascal!” 

Ford can only watch as Stan cuddles and noogies the harbinger of death.

“Stanley…. I thought you were…” Ford couldn’t finish his sentence. The thought was too awful to bear.

“What…? Oooh… Right! The spooky dog of death, thing! You worry too much, Ford! Come say hello!” 

Ford bites his lip, a lump steadily forming in his throat. “I…” His voice breaks.

“Hey, woah… Are you crying?”

“No.. I… You just… Seemed like you were having some troubles and I wasn’t sure if…”

The Grim sits dutifully at Stan’s side while the man strokes him gently. He looks downwards. 

“You thought I was gonna off myself, huh?” He sighs.

“Well…” Ford hesitates for a moment. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Hey… I know I’ve been having a rough couple of days but there’s still no where else I’d rather be. Smokey’d always show up on the bad days. And he’s never sent me to my grave. I’m still here, Ford. Trust me.”

Ford crosses the room in an instant, wrapping his arms around his brother and holding him tightly. The tears flow freely now and Stan simply holds him as they weather the storm together.

The Grim whines and licks Ford’s hand. And, for once, Ford doesn’t even mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by thesnadger's headcanons.
> 
> I wrote this to take a break from essays and I haven't written these two together before so I hope it's okay!


End file.
